The Alchemist made potions
he had a workshop, mysterious
it was ever in motion
the atmosphere, serious
the walls were covered in books
tomes of questionable origin
apparatus to cook
and a rusty old storage bin
spoked wheels spun
pistons reciprocated
condensers did hum
solids liquidated
viscous and translucent
solutions illuminated
slightly florescent
masses accumulated
he will put it on heat
and add a caustic injection
hit a switch at his feet
and pause for reflection
all the ingredients
for his ultimate goal
he could finally achieve it
turn iron to gold!